


The change of time

by John_lockian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, First Kiss, Hiatusstory July challenge, M/M, Mycroft actually does love sherlock, Sherlock (TV) References, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 00:45:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11566809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_lockian/pseuds/John_lockian
Summary: John had spent an inordinate time wishing he could turn back the clock and do things a little differently.What would happen if this impossibility became possible. How would their lives change?





	The change of time

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been written for the July- Hiatus story prompt.  
> It is in beta'd and any errors are mine alone. Hopefully there wont be too many, but please feel free to point any out to me. I continue to struggle with my language structure... erghhhh dialogue... But I keep trying..
> 
> I do not speak French unfortunately so had to rely on a friend for translation of the conversation at the end of the story. The translation is in the notes at the end of the story.
> 
> This is really all fluff with a little angst and some very mild dub consent sex. I have tagged it though it is a very small part of the whole, and not between John and Sherlock.  
> This is not really compliant, there are mentions of series 4 events, but this whole thing is a bit of the wall. so suspend your beliefs and take it as an AU.
> 
> Please feel free to leave Kudos and Comments. I am still a new writer, and your kind comments really boost a girls morale
> 
> If you would like to pop over on Tumblr and say hi, you will find me at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angel-without-wings-sew

The change of time

Chapter 1

The heat came off the two men in waves. Breath gasping, bodies shaking. Then the laughter. 

“Shit, dii.. did, did you see his face when you told him about the CCTV at the gym?” John could barely contain his mirth at the memory of the latest arrest. 

“John, he had it coming. He has been cheating on his wife with at least four different partners, if he was going to commit fraud, he should have done it at a place where he hadn’t been so indiscreet. It wasn’t our fault that the CCTV showed such incriminating evidence, secondary to the crime.”

“ Yes - I can see your point, that colour of puce should never be seen on a mans face, I thought he might just have a cardiac arrest and save the team the trouble of the arrest.”

Sherlock’s lips turned up slightly at the edges, and this made John laugh even harder. He and Sherlock were in heaven. A job well done, and the following high was worth anything they thought they would experience from unnatural substances.  
They sagged back onto the sofa, bodies touching at thighs, and shoulders, Sherlock’s arm still stretched out over the rear of the sofa where it had fallen when they crashed down together. Then the air changed. The electricity bounced around them, a Faraday cage of energy. Both men felt it, both froze. Gently, John looked up at Sherlock, eyes locking, breaths hitching. John swallowed heavily. The connection between the two of them at that moment was precious. A tenuous silky thread connecting the souls of the two men. These moments of electric tension were happening more and more regularly, but neither of them could take that leap of faith into the abyss. Then the clock chimed, twice. The noise reverberating around the lounge, cutting the thread between them in an instant. The moment was gone, Sherlock coughed uncomfortably, dragged back from a place that held nothing but danger for him, but a danger that he was desperate to lose himself in.

“Ohhhh well.” John spoke in a long exhalation of breath. Knowing that once again the moment had come and gone. “Two AM. I suppose we should at least try and get some shut eye. I’ll…. Be erm.. off to bed then.”

Sherlock couldn’t speak, didn’t have the words for fear of spoiling the moment further with his crass sense of communication. He just nodded softly, turned away and reached for his violin.  
John’s footsteps felt heavy as he made his way up to bed. Not even bothering with the bathroom, he stripped and laid under the duvet, his mind going around and round as he listened to the gentle notes of a haunting sad melody being played down stairs.  
John sighed heavily. If only things were different. He was almost sure that Sherlock felt more than friendship for him too, but almost sure wasn’t enough to let him risk the friendship. He berated himself daily for the mess that had become his life over the years. If only he could go back and change those things, tell Sherlock he loved him before he jumped, eradicate all the pain those years had cost them both. Eliminated all trace of Mary from his life, the pain of losing a child he had never got to meet, a child he wasn’t sure had even been his, but one who he had loved and had been eager to welcome into the world. As he fell into a deep sleep his mind wandered into the realms of what if’s, a life where he was brave and he and Sherlock didn’t have to pretend anymore.

 

Chapter two

Sherlock was still fast asleep when John awoke. Not unusual he mused, Sherlock often slept for a day on the back of cases, where he had denied himself food and sleep. He wouldn’t disturb him. Instead he showered, dressed and decided to stop off at Speedy’s for a bacon sandwich before going for a walk. The summer months had been kind this year, this day looked like it would be kind too. 10am but the sun was already high and hot, traces of puffy white clouds scattered the otherwise blue expanse of sky. A long gentle walk would certainly be a better start to his day than the dozen sore throats he would have seen in clinic had he been working that day.

As he stepped out of Speedy’s licking the crumbs from his lips, he froze….. “Shit, nooooo”, he glared at the black car, with its black windows, sitting there waiting. The rear door opened, and he got in. No point in questions, rants or tantrums, he never won. Better to get it over and done with. John smiled tightly at Anthea, as he fastened his seat belt. He had long since realised that communication was not part of the arrangement, he could ask, but she would ignore. He could glare, she would just smile in an absent sort of way. Instead he reached down and pulled a bottle of water from the on-board fridge that John knew was always stocked well with water and champagne. Christ, champagne? Why the hell would Mycroft feel the need to stock his car with a bottle of the finest Bollinger. Jesus, it probably cost him as much as a month of John’s rent.

The journey was longer this time, he hadn’t even been paying attention, his mind wandering back to the evening before, trying make sense of the emotions surrounding him and his best friend. John was surprised when after passing through a couple of sets of security gates, into an underground carpark and up (or down) in a lift to be faced with white on white. Ooook! Obviously, some sort of lab. Bright lights, clear glass. Not one other person to be seen, in fact nope, no one. Anthea, it seemed had stepped back into the lift and left him to his own devices. He stepped forward. Moving more confidently than he felt. 

“Christ..”  
He jumped when part of the wall seamlessly slid away to reveal the form of the man who had once again summoned him.

“Doctor Watson. Welcome”

“Really? You make it sound like I ever have a choice, Mycroft. What is it now? You have a new office? You wanted to show me around?” John glanced around his arm sweeping over the vast whiteness, he didn’t try and hide his irritation.” 

“Come, please sit down, I have a pot of tea just made. Cake?”

John raised his eyes in a knowing look at Mycroft. So Mycroft needed a favour it seemed and he was trying to bribe John with cake? When would the man learn that, he wasn’t as stupid or superficial as Mycroft seemed to think. John sat, drank tea, ate cake and stayed silent. He knew that Mycroft loved drama (maybe even more than Sherlock) No point in hurrying him, he would get round to his demands in his own good time.

Chapter 3

Mycroft studied John. Each micro emotion telling him the state of his psychological and physical welfare He felt that John was most assuredly the right candidate for the job.

“Dr Watson, how are things 'with' my brother?”

John was caught off guard, “Sherlock? What do you mean, how are things 'with' him” He hadn’t missed the emphasis on that small word and John knew exactly what Mycroft was eluding to but was unwilling to give him that satisfaction. “And for god sake, call me John."

“John, ok. Look John… I think we both know that you and my brother are more than just friends. He would die for you, you for him. And you have both killed for each other, and the tension between you is…. Let’s say charged.” Mycroft studied Johns reactions closely, knowing he had hit home.

“Well yes, Mycroft, he’s my best friend. You know, friends, those people who you do things for without having to resort to payment? Or maybe you don’t know?” John Smirked but then felt uncomfortable as Mycroft flinched at the barb that hit home. “Look if you must know, that’s it. We are ‘just’ friends. There will be nothing more, Sherlock isn’t like that. As soon as he said the words, He wished he could retract them. He hadn’t want to confirm Mycroft’s suspicions that he did in fact have more than friend type feelings for Sherlock.

“Goodness sake John, I didn’t ask if you were having sexual relations. Don’t you think I would know that? I see everything. I can deduce most everything you do, don’t do and more importantly what you desire to do!”

John bristled. “Mycroft, what do you want? Surely you are not getting a kick out of my humiliating lack of progress with my romantic intentions towards your brother?” There, he had said it! 

“No John, you misunderstand, you see, but as Sherlock say’s you don’t observe. You see the way Sherlock and I argue. You hear the words. But you don’t see anything beyond that. Maybe it will surprise you to know that not only would I do anything to protect my brother’s life, but I would also do anything to protect his emotional well-being. You see John, I love him too. Don’t look so shocked! I have a job to do. This way of life, my life was mapped out for me when my genetics turned me into the genius that I am. There was never a normal family life for us, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care. I have spent my life trying to be both a mother and a father to Sherlock. I made decisions for him that he hated, some that he will never forgive me for. I have messed up, I have let him down. But I have done my best.”

John sat. mouth open, not sure what to say. He had never heard Mycroft bare his soul before. Not like this. “Mycroft, are you dying?”

Mycroft looked at John, a look that would wither most people in seconds. “Sigh…. No, John. I just, just. Look this is hard for me. I never expected my brother to fall in love. I thought I would spend my days putting him in rehab, I thought I would be writing his eulogy by the time he was thirty. I never expected a Dr Watson to walk into his life and turn everything upside down. And now here you are. And… and what? Soldier… Brave as brave can be. Yet the one thing you needed to be brave about now, and you let the moment pass. Is this what you want John? To spend the rest of your life chasing my brother wondering what if? Letting him lead you more and more into danger just to get the high from the thrill of being that close to you. And yet neither of you can summon the courage to just man up and bare your soul. Instead. You add even more baggage to your relationship. What next John? Another wife? An affair? How long will Sherlock stay off drugs? He needs more, as do you."

John stood, “How the fuck dare you? How dare you… You, you arrogant son a bitch.”

“Really John, is that the best you can do? Tell me then, which bit am I wrong about?”

John sat, head in hands, “Mycroft, what the hell? Shit happens. I, I have fucked up. Yeah, of course in another life I would have gone to medical school, met Sherlock at Bart’s one day, fell head over heels, forgone the army, been undamaged. And we would have had the fairy-tale, the whole shebang. Sherlock would never have turned to drugs, who knows we would be celebrating our marriage etc etc etc. But Mycroft, that can’t happen. The thing is. We are what we are. We can’t turn back time”

Mycroft sat, bolt straight, “what if you could John? What if you could turn the clock back. Would you do it? Theoretically speaking of course.”

John sat, feeling as though the weight of the universe was on his shoulders, where the hell had this come from? One minute he was going out for a walk in the sun, the next he was sitting here realising just what a screw up he was. Raking his fingers roughly through his hair he glared at Mycroft, “Ya know what Mycroft, Yeah. I bloody well would. You know, I love your brother. He’s as mad as a box of frogs. He infuriates me. But I see in him something I could only ever long to be. I see a beautiful man, who has so much love, and no where to put it. If I could go back, I would. I would change things and be at a time now where we can be us. Yeah. However, since this isn’t possible, I don’t know. Maybe I just need to learn to make the best of things. But Mycroft, as long as I live, I will never cheat on him, I will never let him get bored, even if I have to spend the rest of every day of my life actively trying to keep him alive and happy.”

“You can, John” Mycroft uttered the words clearly but quietly. Then just sat waiting.

“What does that even mean Mycroft”? Of course, I can keep him happy or at least die trying, I don’t need you to tell me.”

“No John, you can, you can go back. We can do that now” Mycroft sat so still, pensive, waiting for a response. Silently imploring for John to except this challenge, a challenge he had still yet to learn of.

“Ok Mycroft. I’ll play the game. What the hell are you talking about? You have a time machine in your closet that you need testing? Want me to take it out for a test run?”

Mycroft’s face remained unchanged, only his lips moved. “It’s not a vehicle John. I’m not H.G Wells. And it’s not in my closet!”

The incredulous look on Johns face would have made most laugh, “You are serious? You are fucking serious? You have created some sort of time machine?” John didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Not me John. I have a minor position in government that’s all. I’m here as a spokes-person. We need someone who we can trust. Someone who is motivated to change a few things in their life but who would not attempt to mess with anything… erm big…. Like an assassination on someone. Something that would change the world. The person who does this needs to be honest and there are not many people who if given this power, would be able to resist from, meddling, yes… meddling in things that could have catastrophic consequences.”  
John was still, shock from this unexpected revelation blanketing even the most basic of thought patterns. Minutes passed, Mycroft just watched him, suddenly it seemed that time indeed had no purpose. No limits. 

John Looked up. “Ok, let me get this straight, I could go back to some point in the past. Change an action, do something different. Change my history, my present?”  
“Indeed John” Mycroft murmured nodding. “In fact, you can go back to any point, multiple points. And yes, whatever you do will of course change the course of your life. And those around you. 

“So, Can I change Sherlock’s life? Stop him from taking drugs? Make him happy?”

“No John, there are rules, really strict rules when changing time. You can only change your own actions. Just as you do each second of each day. Everything you do today has a consequence and of course that consequence affects others. But that’s the only way you can change an outcome. Oh, and John, you can only change a point in time once. You can go back right to the beginning, to your start in life if you desire. But whatever you change can’t be changed back. You will be able to see the results of that change at future time points, and can further change your actions right to the present day but once done. It cannot be undone.”

“Ok, so you are saying…..” John didn’t believe he was having this conversation. “So, I can train to be a doctor but not go to Afghanistan? Then I can rewrite my future from there? I can look for Sherlock, meet him and then let things take a new course? Erm, wont this affect you? How will you know what’s happened If I change everything?”  
“We have a temporal shield. Yes, my life will change, there will be new memories. But I will also carry my old ones. The ones I have now. Luckily, because of the mind palace, this won’t be an issue for me. I can separate things out. Of course John, after ‘you get back’ and sleep, you will have no memory of this life as it is. All your memories will be changed.”

“Fuck….. Ok, well, I’ll be off now, it’s certainly something to think about. Shall I give you a ring Mycroft?”

“No John, I brought you here today to make a decision. It’s now, today, or not at all. Either way, when you leave this room you will know nothing about this experiment. I’m sorry John but if you decide against the experiment I have no reason to hurt you. But, the knowledge now you have it would be a threat to you forever, so these few hours will be wiped from your mind. In fact, the tea? Sorry, but it contained a drug that will become active in a few hours if you choose not to take the journey. By the time you get home, you will have no memory of this, just a bit of a headache. If however you wish to go ahead. You will not be missed by Sherlock… or whomever will be in your life at that time. No matter how long you stay here, or on your journey, you will be returned to the time at the exact moment we picked you up in Baker Street.”

John sat on a sofa in a room Mycroft had led him to. He had been furious as being drugged. “what is it about the Holmes’ drugging their friends and family?” But he also understood begrudgingly why Mycroft felt the need to protect him and the programme. Mycroft understood that he needed some time to think, some time to get his head straight. To plan or to come to peace with living as he had when he got up this morning. John’s head was reeling. “What a life.. how fucked up can my life get? What next talking frogs? Maybe Sherlock is actually a frog? Maybe Mycroft is an alien? Nothing, nothing would surprise me at the moment” John realised he was shouting the words out loud and shut his mouth with a snap. “Could it be this easy?” God, the amount of times that John had wished that things could be different. Had wished he could undo and unsay things in his life. Now, he could go back to the beginning rewrite his history. He thought about not going to Afghanistan. He thought about the friends he had made, those he would never meet. But to be free of the pain? The nightmares, that was an attractive proposition. And Sherlock, of course If John had known him back then, maybe Sherlock wouldn’t have succumbed to that terrible addiction. The pain the horrors it brought for him, his family his friends. Sebastian Moran, he would have no chance to take Sherlock away. To take advantage of him. To abuse him, scare him. And Mary? He would never know her. Never miss her she wouldn’t be a blip on his radar. If he passed her in the street she would just be some middle-aged housewife, easy on the eye, but he would have Sherlock so she would have no hold on him. And the baby? Well, no baby, the baby wouldn’t ever have existed. No pain for anyone. He was overwhelmed with the desire to change things. To turn back the clock.

“Mycroft!” He shouted from the room, knowing he was being watched. “Mycroft. Come back. I want to do it. I want to do it”

Mycroft came back in the room almost immediately. He was accompanied by an older man. Slight, grey and bespectacled. The man had a clip board. Mycroft was towing a trolley. John took in the equipment. Heart monitor, pulse oximeter, IV Stand. Dextrose saline. John looked at the solution. It had a sticker on the reverse. Standard practice for any IV that contained a drug. John Looked carefully. Today’s date. Two signatures. The drug name. EX0621b. Hmm… He looked up. At Mycroft’s blank face, knowing there was no way he would be allowed to know anything about this drug even if he begged for information. 

“Ok. How does this work?” John felt an urgency, he wanted to do this. He wanted things to be good. With Sherlock, with, with everything.

“John, first things first, this has been tested before. Not the ability to change time, that’s where this test comes in to play, but the movement through time. You are quite safe. You will in physicality, remain in this room. Your thoughts and brain function however will be divided between here and, well, wherever you go. You will not be interacting with anyone in the past. You will not be able to interact with those you have loved and lost. You will feel very real. Very solid. But it will be as though you are a ghost. You will feel, different. Those you ‘visit’ will have no perception of you at all." 

Mycroft looked at John carefully to make sure he was understanding, and continued as John Nodded.

"If the calculations are correct, you can change the timeline of any moment as simple as typing a few words. Your neural pathways will be wired into a computer, through these electrodes, you will have a device as solid as you are. An extension if you like of yourself. It’s a physical brain if you like. You type in the changes, as though you are thinking them, they become the thoughts of your younger self, as you blink and exhale. You will find your younger self following your instructions or you will find yourself where ever you have requested, in whatever way you have changed things. The device is strapped to your hand to make you feel secure, but like your presence there, it isn’t real as in corporeal. It is a physical manifestation of you taking control, you can’t lose it, or lose your way back. We will monitor you constantly but will only bring you back if something goes badly wrong with your well-being. We will not interfere John. Whatever you do is your responsibility. Remember John, that whatever you do can have catastrophic consequences for everyone. Do not make any decision lightly. On the other side John, as I have said, you are the first person allowed to try and rewrite a timeline, it may not work. If it doesn’t the whole thing will be shelved. This is a last chance hurrah.”  
The assistant had john strip down to his briefs then placed electrodes over John’s body. Far more than any conventional hospital equipment. There must have been fifty or more, including EEG wires adhered to his scalp. A cannula was inserted and IV had been primed red for connection. John made himself comfortable on the large comfortable sofa. He could hardly believe he was about to do this. The fluid started to drip and he immediately felt drowsy. He let the dark take him, knowing it was too late to change his mind and knowing that going into any sort of sedation fighting it, meant an uneasy recovery following wake up.

Chapter three

John blinked awake, startled, confusion seeping through his brain. What? He was in a room. Erm, was it a room? All white, no doors, no nothing. He looked down, he was dressed in white tunic and white trousers. Ok, so had something gone wrong? A moment of panic, then he noticed a red light flashing on a unit attached by straps to his lower arm. The unit was light weight, well no weight really. About the size of a small tablet. 

***INPUT REQUIRED DATE*** 

The message flashed red, stark and bright against the whiteness of everything else. Ok, John breathed out slowly. Mycroft had told him about this, just before he had started the drip. He had to just input the furthest date he wanted to go back. He knew that when he got to the required date, he just need to tap plus or minus for half hour increments into the past or future. He stood for a moment. Going over some of the thoughts he had had that afternoon in the time Mycroft had left him to deliberate. He didn’t want to revisit his childhood. But he needed to try and see what happened to Harry. He remembered his sixteenth birthday, His dad had been drunk as usual. It was a rubbish day. But made so much worse when he saw Harry. That night when she came home, she was drunk, sodden drunk, hardly able to stand. She had been a good sister till then. They had stuck together. She had been a brilliant artist. Loved the idea of being a fashion designer and had applied to go to university. But when the refusal came through on his birthday she had just seemed broken. It was as though that had been the one thing that could have saved her.

***22nd APRIL 1995 ***

He typed the date carefully, took a deep breath and pressed enter. He felt, nothing.  
John blinked then opened his eyes. He could hardly believe it. His old bedroom. The scruffy walls, the torn posters. The corner of the porn magazine, just peeking out but visible under his chest of drawers. No wonder his dad had found it so easily. And there in the bed, John Watson. He smiled down at himself. He looked carefree sleeping in the early hours, 5am the clock said. He knew that he had only ever used sleep to escape from the mayhem at home. Since his mum had died when he was 12, his dad had become worse with alcohol, almost always drunk. Harry had come as a lesbian not long before his mum’s death. Mum had not been phased, but his homophobic dad had hated it. He couldn’t bear the thought of Harry with another woman. and had even tried to blame her mum’s death on this and not the advanced liver cancer that had taken her in months after diagnosis.  
He wandered round his childhood house, seeing it from an adult point of view. Harry still fast asleep. She had been so beautiful then, before the ravages of alcoholism. She slept silently, her pink cheeks flushed against the cold he knew from memory permeated the house. No heat, ever. Bills rarely got paid. They were lucky to keep the electric on most times but John thought that was only so the fridge could keep his dad’s beer cold. He wandered into his dad’s room. Felt sick as he saw the man, bloated from drink. The yellow grey pallor that he hadn’t noticed as a child but now recognised as advanced alcoholic related cirrhosis, His dad laid on top of the bed, obviously where he had collapsed, in his piss stained pants. God, even though he knew this man was now dead, the sight of him sickened John. Taking one last look around he tapped the plus button knowing that no one would be up and about till at least 10am, even on his birthday. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw Harry dashing along to the bathroom. Saw the child john Just beaten to the door. “Sorry John postman will be here soon, I want to wait for him”. Harry had called as she snuck into the bathroom.  
John fought hard to bring the memory of this day back. He remembered his dad grasping the letter from the university. Roaring at Harry about how useless she was that she couldn’t even get a place at university. The man had sneered at her as he had told her she would never be good enough, never amount to anything. John remembered Harry’s face. It had crumpled as her dad tore the letter into small pieces laughing as she burst into tears running from the room. It was a few days after wards that Harry had sobered up. She sat talking to John about how their dad had told her she had to stay home and look after him, that there was no way she would get into university, or get a good job anyway. She sighed as she had told John that he must have been right, she was useless just like him.

John analysed the scene that had happened years before. The letter? No one except their dad read the letter. John looked up as he heard his father stumbling around in his room. He knew what came next, what must have happened all those years ago, dad must have intercepted the letter! John thought quickly and punched into the keyboard

***JOHN GOES TO GET MAIL***

John Blinked and when he opened his eyes he saw the young John fly down the stairs just stopping as the flap of the letter box opened. “Harry, a letter from University" John shouted excitedly as he ran up the stairs into the Bedroom as Harry was pulling on her jeans. 

She tore open the envelope and gasped, “Oh John, I’m in… I have a full grant, I can start in September” 

Both John and Harry turned as Their father came out glowering…. “Clean this fucking tip up both of you. I’m off out.” Young John turned to Harry, hugged her and told her that this was the best birthday he could ever have had.

John turned away from his old life smiling. He didn’t yet know what came next, what repercussions this would cause but surely nothing could be worse. Oh, Gosh , yes. One more thing. It might just save him a good beating.

*** JOHN HIDES HIS PORN IN A MUCH BETTER HIDING PLACE ***

Chapter 4.

John thought about peeking into the next few years. But what if things hadn’t worked the way he wanted? He knew he could only do so much. He didn’t want to get into a catch 22 situation of micro managing his life. This had seemed an easy task at first but was now realising that this journey was fraught with danger. No, he would move on to when he started University. John sighed. He had time. All the time in the world it seemed. He could be gone as long as he wanted, take his time and still be back before Sherlock awoke from his sleep, but having only just started he already wanted to go home. 

***10 SEPTEMBER 1997 *** 

When John looked round he immediately recognised Bart’s. Not the modern refurbished Bart’s that hardly smelled of disinfectant, but the astringent smell of years of antiseptic that permeated throughout the hospital and lecture halls alike. The wooden tables in the Morris lecture theatre appeared before him and he was instantly taken back to the moment when he had his first lecture. John scanned the room, moving around easily. Unseen by the hundreds of eyes watching the front nervously waiting for the lecture to start. John didn’t have to look far. He had always been a creature of habit. Ok, so changing Harry’s future that day hadn’t affected him going to Bart’s he thought with satisfaction. He could see himself, sitting fifth row from the bottom, the aisle seat he had always snagged so he could get out quickly, but not right at the front so he had to crane his neck to look up at the screens. The younger john sat, looking pensive. Hair longer then than it was now. Shaggy, a little unkempt. He moved closer. Ignoring everything and everybody else. He noticed the younger man's clothes. Tired, probably charity shop finds, but he was there, he had done it. He sighed with relief. The one thing he had really wanted to do was be a doctor. Prove his father wrong. Prove everyone wrong who had ever doubted him. He was happy with this, he didn’t need to mess. He had confidence that if he had made it this far, that he would go all the way. He began to turn away when a thought flew through his mind. Hmmm, one thing he had wished he had done when he met Sherlock. One area he was always awed by. Language. He had done rudimentary French at school. Had done well, but had taken it no further. Maybe he could learn French, now that would be a turn up for the books. 

*** LET JOHN BE INTERESTED IN LEARNING FRENCH AS AN EXTRA CURRICULAR*** 

He blinked then sat in a spare seat just behind young John. Soaking in the memories of those around him. Oh God, there was Mike, Tall and trim back then. He was so glad he had met Mike back then, he then sat back and enjoyed the lecture, amused by the simplicity of the basic information. As the lecture ended, John stretched and watched younger John put away his note book. He had been meticulous at taking notes. Always, always carried two pens. Something he still did now. John knew looking at the hunger in his eyes back then that he wanted to make a go of this. He had fought hard for it.

“Hi John, You off to lunch now?” Mike had stopped by John and waited patiently for him to put his things away. 

“Ya. Know Mike, I had this idea that I would like to do French as an extra. I’m going to sign up with the French society you fancy joining me”

“oo la la John, trying to impress the ladies on your first day hey? Yeah. I’m in… who knows I might be able to woo the ladies too some day. Haven't had much luck so far.”  
The pair strode off and John stood and grinned.  
So far so good.

Chapter 5  
*** 1st June 2004***  
John found himself in a small room. He recognised the rotation room he had spent many a night in. Used as an on-call bed room for those who managed to get a few hours’ sleep. The room was well worn and tatty. He glanced over to the bed and was amused to find his younger self wrapped in the arms and legs of a woman he didn’t recognise. He glanced at the clock. 2:30am, He was fast asleep. His clothes, his white coat strewn over the floor. Then he noticed the nurses uniform. Rachel? Rebecca? God, he couldn’t remember. He blushed as grimaced. There had been a few. He enjoyed sex. The moment, when you give yourself to orgasm, forgetting the world. That moment of just being. He knew that whoever this woman was that she hadn’t stayed around, he probably would have remembered her if they had had some sort of relationship. He was startled at the ‘beep beep beep’ of younger John’s Pager. John groaned as he wriggled out from under the nurse. He looked knackered. Haggard and old. John smiled to himself. Funny, back then he thought himself invincible, never felt the long hours. Just trudged on through, he knew now there was no way on earth he could put his body through that ordeal again. The lack of sleep, constant adrenalin highs and lows. It was a wonder more medics didn’t keel over from exhaustion.

He watched as Younger John reached for the phone and dialled the relevant number.  
“Dr John Watson – what is it?” He listened then dragging his clothes on as he spoke said “Give me two mins” Dressed he hurried out of the room, not even looking back at the woman who had slept through it all. 

John followed the Younger John down the corridor, into Trauma. He remembered this had been his first job after qualifying. He had come here before enlisting with the medical Corp. John stayed back watching the scene unfold before him. He watched as his younger self took his role seriously. Clipping off an artery that was spurting blood at an alarming rate. He himself didn’t remember this case. There had been too many, so much blood, so much death. But he watched in admiration as his younger self took control, working seamlessly as part of the team. Stabilising and subsequently saving the life of the man who had been knocked off his motor bike by a lorry. John spent the rest of the shift watching his younger self, the team he had worked with. He felt a sense of pride at how well he did his job. The last case before the younger John went off shift was particularly harrowing, a man in his early thirties came in having over dosed at a party. The man was tall and thin, and although it had happened at a social event, the man was all alone. No one had arrived to offer him support, to hold his hand as he breathed his last. John watched as his younger self rubbed his hands through his hair, sad that he hadn’t been able to do more.  
Before long John wandered out into the corridor and found himself thinking about Sherlock, God that man could have been Sherlock. Maybe he had treated him at some point and never even known. What was Sherlock up to now? He knew that in his own timeline his younger self would be in Afghanistan in a few short months. Going out as a qualified doctor shortened his army training considerably. That and the lack of soldiers. He was 25 at this point in time, so Sherlock was 21. It would have been easy for the young John to go looking for Sherlock before now, meet him at university, bump into him at a coffee shop maybe. John knew though that Sherlock had struggled a lot at School and at university. He had hated it. Was there ever a good time to break that cycle. Against every bit of him that ached to make things better for Sherlock, he doubted that allowing the younger John to meet Sherlock when he was so angry and distrustful of the world would have a happy outcome. Maybe it would do the opposite. But, he desperately wanted to see him, to witness him as a young man, full of fire.

Chapter 6

John wandered out of the hospital raking his memory for tit bits about Sherlock’s past. Where was he when he was 21. Still at university maybe. Sherlock had often Joked about being kicked out. But John realised shamefully that he didn’t know this side of Sherlock very much at all. John set off for Cambridge and realised that travelling ‘light’ without need for tickets queues etc. was a very convenient way to travel. “Where would Sherlock be," John knew a little about Cambridge, the different colleges, but still he knew he was in for a long search. He knew Sherlock didn’t like routine, but he knew he would have to do some academic work, John tried to work out the best place to start Sherlock hunting, and set off in search of the labs. hours must have passed by, but there was no conscious passage of time. John didn’t feel weary or even hungry. He just trudged from place to place, everyone he saw oblivious to his presence. The alumni gossiping in the corridor about a pregnant student. Plenty of students sitting in little corners, heads in books. The occasional couples sitting arm in arm lamenting on the hardship of being a poor old student. 

John happened on some labs. Went in looked around, no Sherlock. Some contained irate students obviously dealing with difficult chemical combinations, others filled with laughter as smaller groups laughed at the possibilities of the weird and wonderful concoctions they had tried to muster. But no Sherlock. John must have tried 10, 15 even 20 rooms. Then he stopped outside a room marked simply. Lab 180. He looked through the glass and it appeared empty, but as he had with the others, he went in and looked around. He saw some equipment that he was used to seeing since his days in Baker street, but this place? My goodness it was also high tech. He heard a growl, a noise of contempt. And he knew he had found his quarry. There standing by a fume cupboard stood Sherlock, a most definitely younger Sherlock, lean but not skinny, and, well sort of unworn. He took John’s breath away. He was holding a tumbler filled with a viscous looking liquid inside the fume cupboard muttering loudly about incompetent lecturers, inferior chemicals and below par equipment. Ahh yes, that was his Sherlock. John chuckled. He stood mesmerized by the younger man in front of him. Had he started using drugs yet? His face certainly didn’t show the ravages of a drug user. He was thin. But then he always seemed to have been. 

The door slammed open behind him, making both him and Sherlock jump. 

“Sherlock, I thought I might find you here. You know I asked you to come to my room when you were free?” 

The young man looked obnoxious John thought, superior and condescending. 

“Well Sebastian, I would have if I had been finished but as you see I am still quite busy with this project” 

John glared. He had heard about Sebastian. He and Victor the only two men that Sherlock had really mentioned. He knew that they had gone to the same university. But he didn’t know much else, Sherlock had often gone very quiet when the name arose having never felt able to share this part of his life. John just sat at a bench and watched the confrontation. That was what it seemed to be, Sebastian glaring at Sherlock, Sherlock glaring back, obviously perturbed by Sebastian’s presence.

“Well, I am in a hurry, and horny as hell Sherlock. For god sake. Why do always have to put these blasted experiments first. You know what I need, and you have a debt to pay, at this rate you will still owe me when you are old and wrinkled, and I certainly won’t have use for you then.”

Sherlock’s shoulders slumped. John noticed the defeat in his eyes. "What did this bloody man have over him?"

Suddenly John froze in horror, Sebastian had unzipped his fly as Sherlock approached took out his cock that was already hard and stroked it languorously. Sherlock walked over, looked at Sebastian before falling to his knees in front of him. John turned away. 

Noooo nooo no no, he couldn’t, wouldn’t see this. Before he could turn to walk out he could hear the moans of Sebastian. "

Yes! Yes Sherlock, make me come. You know I like this." If John had been looking, he wold have seen the way Sebastian had Sherlock's curls fisted cruelly, tugging painfully, even though Sherlock remained silent.

The breaths and gasps of Sebastian got louder in John’s head careening off the walls of his skull but he sat frozen. Then it was over. John risked a glance up, saw Sebastian wiping his cock with paper towel, the smirk on his self-satisfied face almost unbearable. Sherlock rose from the floor having not spoken or made a sound throughout the encounter. He went over to the sink and spat out. Before turning his mouth to the tap, swilling his mouth rigorously with water his gaze, that cold gaze never breaking from Sebastian. 

“Now, can I get on” Sherlock’s expression was like stone. Sebastian just shrugged…. Of course, I’ll let you know when I need you again shall I?

John watched as Sherlock sat at the bench the sound of the slamming door ringing through the lab. Sherlock’s shoulders sagged. John ached to hold him. If at that moment, he could turn back time for Sherlock he would do it in an instant. And he knew why Mycroft and his associates had put in safe guards. Jesus, he was so mad right now, he would have probably started WW3. Sherlock stood straight, shrugged and went back to the experiment. 

John looked on. He drank in everything he could knowing that when this time travel was over, he would remember none of this. He would only remember his own private timeline, well the one he was eventually left with. He turned knowing that at this point the younger John could do nothing for Sherlock. They were worlds apart. He couldn’t risk them meeting right now. He might lose everything.

Chapter 7

John moved forward to the day he enlisted. He sat and watched his younger self sitting in the corridor outside the recruitment office. He knew that he had until the papers were signed to change his mind.  
John allowed himself the time to remember Afghanistan. He remembered his training. Remembered his comrades. The officers, his juniors, his friends. For the first time, the memories didn’t hurt as he thought about his time as a soldier and army medic, a side effect of this time travel procedure he thought. Some detachment. He allowed his mind to wander. Those dark cold nights hunkered down as the insurgents tried to wait them out. The rounds of gun fire splitting the night. He remembered the boring times, the men playing cards, the rivalry as they mucked around playing pranks on each other, the gentle teasing. And the not so gentle hand jobs behind the barracks. Those moments of bonding between frightened men living so closely but all wanting to get home safe to their loved ones. Then John remembered his last battle, when he got hit. He recalled every moment. That fight, should never have happened. The loss of life, his friends, those in his care. If only things had been different. He knew that he could get his younger self to walk away from the corridor. Change his mind about signing his life away to the military. Knew that he could at last be free of the nightmares. He could be unhurt, undamaged. But then…. He had met Sherlock because he had been damaged. He met Sherlock because of Afghanistan. “No. No no….” His hands were tied.

John sat watching. The door to the office 

“John Watson. Come in please” 

the voice of a small male uniformed man, sturdy and observant. Showed the younger John in and closed the door. John smiled. He didn’t need to go into that room. He knew exactly what was happening. He recollected the pride he felt when he came out of that room years ago. He knew he had made the right decision. War had changed him, damaged him. But he was who he was. He was the man who Sherlock had befriended regardless of his nightmares, regardless of his psychosomatic limp. He knew that as painful as those memories were, they had shaped him as a man. He could never truly regret those times.  
John moved to change the date on the console again then stopped. Where to now? So many times, where he could change things. He could stop Sherlock Jumping. Stop that pain, Oh that pain, even now the memory of watching the fall made him feel sick. But it had already happened. Mary had happened. The baby had happened. John knew with a certainty what to do next.

 

Chapter 7

*** Current day minus one***

John typed in the message knowing that when he got back to Mycroft there would be no going back. He decided to go to the day before. He had one message for John. Just one.  
He blinked, opening his eyes slowly. Unsure for a moment what time it was, he realised that he was waiting for Sherlock to get the CCTV recordings from their last case. He watched the pair as the recordings played out. He watched himself and Sherlock laugh as the indiscretions played out in front of them. John smiled as he watched Sherlock, his Sherlock. He drew a sharp breath as he noticed Sherlock watching him. He had been intent on the video footage. Hadn’t noticed as Sherlock’s gaze settled on his face, the tenderness, the fond smile as he gazed over at John.  
His heart thumped in his chest as he watched the events that had happened only yesterday. Yes! He knew now for certain that Sherlock did feel for him, Sherlock did feel those things. He could see that as fact as much evidence as the CCTV footage in front of them. He didn’t want to see more. He just looked down at the console. John typed.

*** John tells Sherlock how he feels when this case is closed***

He then typed in 

***Current Day***

He blinked. 

“John? Is everything Ok John? “Mycroft looked at him uncertainly. The technician making a hasty retreat from the room as soon as he checked John’s vital signs. 

“can I go home Mycroft?” John smiled. 

Mycroft smiled. A slow but certain smile. “I see, erm. Nothing could be changed John?” His expression said a thousand words.  
Of course, John suddenly realised why he had been set this task. Mycroft had known how deadly this technology was. He needed John to try it and rubbish it. He had trusted John to do the right thing.

“No Mycroft. I erm. I tried to type in several things but nothing, nada, the time machine bit works as you said. I could see myself in the past, but couldn’t do anything at all. You need to have someone sacked!” 

“Ok, John you need to get home, Of course you will be debriefed fully in the next few days. But you are obviously exhausted. Oh by the way You sister Harriet called, I hope you didn’t mind me taking the call. She said that she will be finished in Milan Friday, will she be able to pop over to see you if that’s would be Ok? “  
John’s face snapped to Mycroft’s. “Milan? Harry is in Milan? “

“Yes John, is that unexpected? I’m sure I heard you saying her new collection was showing in Milan this week? “ 

Johns heart soared a reality, his new reality sunk in. “Thank you Mycroft, yes I had forgotten, you know how it is. I’ll ring her later, but I need to be somewhere else right now.”

“Au revoir John” Mycroft smirked. 

“Merci Mycroft” John smiled, not sure how Mycroft knew, he could ask later. 

Chapter 8

John stepped out of the car outside 221 Baker Street. The sun shone, and he felt light and happy. Stepping inside into the cool hallway John took a deep breath. As he stepped inside 221B, he stopped abruptly as Sherlock came out of his bedroom. “Morning Sherlock.”

“You have been out for breakfast John? “Sherlock looked sleepy but ever observant. “Bacon crumbs on your jumper.”

John laughed. “Sherlock, would you like tea? I really want to talk to you.”

“mmm John, tea, yes, toast too?” 

Of course, Sherlock would be hungry for at least a day after abstaining from food for the past few days.  
John made tea, humming quietly to himself unaware of Sherlock’s observant gaze over his body. John brought the tea and toast through and laughed as Sherlock gobbled the toast and honey as though it was his last meal.

“Sherlock, last night was great. The case was so much fun. I wanted to say how much I love doing this with you.” 

“John, you will always be my partner in crime, the face of that man needs to be remembered for ever, one for the blog I think!” 

John Chuckled.

“Sherlock, I… I want to say something else. I wanted to say it last night, but I chickened out” 

John’s nervousness didn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock, who raised his eye brow in question.  
“The thing is Sherlock. We have been through so much. I once thought that given the chance I would change everything. I would go back and do it all again. Stop all the pain, make things right between us. But, but you know. I don’t want that. I know I am damaged goods. I know I have hurt you terribly Sherlock. And yes, you have hurt me too. But we are who we are.” 

John looked up and realised Sherlock had moved toward him, within reaching distance. John put up his hand and Sherlock captured it in his.  
“The thing is Sherlock. All of this, He waved around the room, all of you he said grinning. I erm… I have fallen in love. Jesus. I love you Sherlock. All the crap, everything that has happened for us both. I really hope that somewhere deep inside you might feel something for me too”  
Sherlock stepped in closer one arm snaking around John’s waist. “Oh John, John. I never believed that one of us would be brave enough to make the first move. Thank you” And with that Sherlock leaned in hesitantly brushing his lips over Johns. “  
The two bodies melted in to each other. This was the start of the future. The past was gone. The future promising.  
John knew that when he awoke, he wouldn’t remember his journey. He couldn’t wait to remember the new memories that had been made. Especially for Harry. But he knew that for him and Sherlock there would be no surprises. Hmm Maybe one surprise for Sherlock before bed……  
“Sherlock, couche avec moi.”  
“hum, vraiment ? Le français ? Tu as pratiqué beaucoup ? Eh bien, viens te coucher avec moi. Il n'y a aucune chose que j'aimerais plus.”  
“Je t'aime, tu sais.”  
“Nous sommes ensemble des idiots. Nous nous aimons depuis trop longtemps. Alors, viens. Ne perdons plus de temps.”

Finite

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for any inaccuracies in my French translation, as I had to rely solely on a friend. The dialogue is as follows if you are interested.
> 
> “Sherlock, couche avec moi.”- “Sherlock take me to bed” 
> 
> “hum, vraiment ? Le français ? Tu as pratiqué beaucoup ? Eh bien, viens te coucher avec moi. Il n'y a aucune chose que j'aimerais plus.” - “hmm, really? French? You have been practicing? Well come to bed then, I would enjoy nothing better”
> 
> “Je t'aime, tu sais.” - “I love you, ya know”
> 
> “Nous sommes ensemble des idiots. Nous nous aimons depuis trop longtemps. Alors, viens. Ne perdons plus de temps.” - “We are both idiots, we have loved each other for too long, now come let’s not waste more time”
> 
> Please feel free to leave Kudos and Comments. I am still a new writer, and your kind comments really boost a girls morale.


End file.
